"And how exactly is my night any of your business, Your Grace?"
I stepped away and shot him a cold, distant look.
His eyes darkened, a storm brewing beneath the surface. He raised both hands in mock surrender, lips curling.
"It's not. Of course not. It's just, watching someone who used to be your fiancée bounce from one man to another isn't… pleasant."
As if he ever took Davina seriously in the first place.
I ran a hand through my hair to cover the spot he'd touched, stood straight, and composed myself with royal grace.
"If you're feeling regret, Your Grace, perhaps you'd consider becoming one of my consorts."
Dylan laughed and shook his head, knowing full well I was goading him.
"Maybe I will."
I didn't bother to continue the exchange, my turn to enter the temple had come. I lifted my gown and stepped onto the long, steep staircase. People believed the climb was a symbol of sincerity before the gods.
I heard footsteps behind me and glanced over my shoulder.
